


Blood in the Water

by TheHoardingPuffin



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Whump, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Podfic Welcome, Post-Season/Series 02, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28441668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHoardingPuffin/pseuds/TheHoardingPuffin
Summary: Dick Grayson, at heart, is a habitual worrier. His mind isn’t a healthy one, he knows that well, but he never addresses it, not even when he’s confronted about it. That is, until he can’t withstand the pressure any longer and cracks appear on the surface.Post Season 2 – some nice old-fashioned whump/sick fic featuring bat-family feels.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Comments: 6
Kudos: 156





	Blood in the Water

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, people!  
> I recently finally sat down to watch "Titans" and what can I say, I loved it. I know that not everyone feels like that but oh well. Anyhow, I have a LOT of Dick-Grayson-related feels and thoughts about Season Two's ending and possibilities for seasons to come, and I needed an outlet, so here is a small whump oneshot. Please note that this is my first DC fanfiction and the first time I write any of the characters. I also didn't pay much attention to Comic Book Canon here (partially for convenience, partially because I don't know all the different timelines, partially because I figured they'd be barely relevant to the TV Series' Canon) and I just wrote a sweet small brotherly sickfic. I suppose one could argue that I wrote the characters a bit OOC, but I felt like it didn't feel too wrong to me for Dick to be shit at admitting he needs help and for Jason to be soft and sweet and to let his guard down a bit to help his adopted brother... Like, this is how I see those characters, that's... mostly it. I also took the liberty of putting in my interpretation of Dick hallucinating Bruce over and over again, since I don't think there is a canon explanation (unless I missed it in which case... wow I must be dull)  
> I am rambling. Sorry. Nervous about the first post in a new fandom.  
> I hope you like it! Reviews and Kudos are always appreciated and act as food for the soul and the creative mind.  
> Loads of love,  
> Lotta

It felt weird, being back at the tower again. This time, Dick really hadn’t expected to be back. Not that it felt the same anymore – it didn’t. The windows had been replaced, the shattered glass wiped away, the furniture seemed barely scratched and was back in its place, but it felt like everything was… somehow… wrong. Not just because of Donna – though there was a gaping, oozing hole in his heart that hadn’t been there before.

He hadn’t thought this was ever going to happen. Well, logically, he had _known_ , of course, but this wasn’t really about logic, because logically, everyone died at some point. And this wasn’t about that – about an _at some point_ , about an _eventually_. This was about a _before they are ready_ , about an _if_ _I can’t prevent it_. About what would happen if he did not protect, prevent –

Dick, at heart, was a habitual worrier. It’s not something he could turn off, his mind was constantly in a whirl, and it made his head hurt until it seemed close to bursting. And this lead, amongst other things, to overthinking and to overprotectiveness. He couldn’t let anything happen to his family.

Except, of course, all the worrying was for naught now. Once again. Because he had, in his worries, abandoned logic. Had pushed down the logical thought of _everyone dies someday_ , had allowed that thought to warp into _someday someone will die and it will be your fault_. 

Because that was how it was, right? No amount of worry, of precaution, had been enough. It had been his fault that Deathstroke had been able to get into their minds – via his daughter, that Dick had insisted on taking in even when his closest, oldest friends told him he shouldn’t – it had been his fault that Jason had been kidnapped, that he had almost died, that he would probably never recover from the experience of falling off that building – it had been his fault that Gar and Conner had been taken by Cadmus and had been experimented on and hurt – it was his fault Donna was dead.

Not directly his fault – she had stepped forth to hold the electric beam by choice – but by consequence, it was still his fault. If he hadn’t gotten himself imprisoned, then he could have prevented Gar and Conner being taken, which would have prevented the attack on the street side carnival, which would have prevented –

His eyes burned, his throat tightened. He bit down on his teeth until his entire skull hurt, and forced everything down again.

Bruce stepped up to him, and Dick engaged half-heartedly in the conversation. It wasn’t that he couldn’t appreciate his mentors’ – his second father’s, who was he trying to lie to here – words, but they just did so little in the grand scheme of things.

They were true though. Things _did_ fall apart, and the Titans _were_ a family worth keeping together, a family in grief that needed healing. “It's a process best not done alone”, Bruce had said, and that was true, too – and if that had to happen, then they needed a _functioning_ leader.

The others needed time to heal, and Dick needed to be there for them. That meant he couldn’t be broken, too.

A part – the sensible part – of Dick knew that this was a stupid mind-set and that he, too, needed healing, but he had never been good at accepting or allowing himself help of any sort, especially when his bodily health and his life weren’t directly at risk. He could keep his mind in check, usually, and besides, he had dealt with death before. He could do it again.

He had to.

Dick took a shaking breath. Put on a neutral face and swallowed down his tears. Ran a hand over his face and joined his friends for dinner.

The night brought blissful distraction in the shape of a fight in the mission district. It cleared everything – worry about Jason, who was still missing, worry about Rachel, guilt and pain about Donna’s death – off his mind for a few hours, and the fight filled him with energy he had felt drained from before. The new suit fit like a second skin and felt just as comfortable, even a bit like a hug, oddly enough, and after his experience – dream – hallucination – whatever it had been – at the prison he found himself to be stronger, more agile, as if something had been unlocked inside him and now he had access to abilities that had been locked away before.

But every fight came to an end, eventually, and they were back again at the tower, and everything came rushing back.

Dick managed to distract himself for another hour or two, patching up himself and his friends, but eventually, all that could be done was done, and he was alone with his thought again.

His own little speech from their dinner earlier rang back in his ears. Words about family and sticking together and everything. Then, they had just been the truth, but now, it felt like his own words were mocking him, just like his hallucinations of Bruce had mocked him in the days before.

His mind wasn’t a healthy one, he knew that, but until now, he hadn’t realized how bad it was.

No.

Wrong.

He hadn’t _allowed_ himself to realize.

He had forced it down, like he always did, had forced it down to remain on his feet, to remain functioning, and had convinced himself that that was okay, that it was _normal_ – or at least that he would deal with it later.

Bullshit.

It was time he admitted so much to himself.

Total bullshit. He had never intended to deal with _anything_ later.

He looked at himself in the mirror of his bathroom and forced himself to stare into his own eyes. To tell himself to cut the crap, because who else would when he kept pretending to be fine to the outside?

He wanted to yell into his own face, to tell himself _You messed up, asshole! Now fix it! Look at yourself!_ but what actually came out was a weak, strained “Fuck.”

Very eloquent, indeed.

Dick exhaled slowly. His hands gripped the sides of the sink tighter, until his knuckles turned white. He was feeling shaken and weak, more so than he had in a long time.

“Fuck.”

Wow, the same intelligent exclamation twice. Good job, Grayson.

Dick took another breath and ran a hand over his face. His mind resembled a whirlwind and his body hurt after the fight, something he had barely noticed until now. God, he was a mess.

Sleep. Sleep could help. Probably. Hopefully.

For a moment, he considered going over to Dawn’s room, or Kory’s… or anyone’s, really.

But he couldn’t. Dawn and Hank probably had… stuff… to talk through, Gar needed rest more than all of them – he was still coming to terms with the whole mind-mangling the Cadmus folks had done on in him, the fact he had killed many people and didn’t remember anything about it, and the fact that Rachel was gone, so Dick really couldn’t go and bother him with his problems… he couldn’t bother any of them with his problems.

He was doing it again – deflecting – he knew it, but what the hell, he had done so for years, one more night couldn’t hurt. He’d talk to them tomorrow.

No, you won’t, he thought, glancing around the room, hoping to see a hallucination of Bruce, a reflection of his conscience, but nothing.

He didn’t quite remember how he had gotten into his bed, or what he had dreamed of, just that it had been a nightmare of some sort, and that he was awake now, and sitting not in, but next to his bed, with the back of his head hurting dully. 

He had, no doubt with all the gracefulness appropriate for an acrobat, fallen out of his bed.

Slowly, Dick got to his feet and stumbled over to the bathroom.

In the mirror, he saw himself as pale as a sheet, sweaty hair sticking in every direction, and dark circles under his eyes. He looked like hell, and felt like it too, if he admitted it to himself. Seemed like his fever – the one he had thought he’d left behind at the prison – had returned with full force.

“Fuck.”

He ran cold water over his hands and rubbed it over his face and neck, but it did little to help the odd hot-but-cold feeling.

He wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed, to sleep to forget his aches and his sickness, but of course, fate wouldn’t let him have his way.

Something shattered somewhere else in the tower, tearing Dick from his thoughts.

Absently, he grabbed the first thing he could find in his room - a wooden Bo staff, why was that even there – and crept out of his room and closer to the source of the sound.

There was no light anywhere, so maybe he had been the only one who had heard it…

Cussing came from the open living-slash-kitchen-pace, hushed, under the breath. For a moment, Dick attempted to peer into the darkness – no lights were on, the fire was out, even the blue strips of LEDs underneath all edges weren’t on anymore, turned off by the computer system and timer – then found a light switch.

The bright light was almost blinding and he bit back a curse.

From behind the kitchen counter came a “Oh Shit” and then, a hand shielding his eyes, a very dishevelled Jason Todd dove up from the floor. “Oh.”

“Jason.” Dick squinted at his adopted brother. “You’re back.”

“Yeah. Can… can you turn that off?”

Dick gladly turned off the light again, and once his eyes had recovered for a moment, he could make out Jason’s silhouette again. Slowly, he stepped closer.

“I didn’t think you’d be”, he said. “Back, I mean.”

“Me neither.” Jason sighed. “I… I guess that whole bullshit about… _being drawn back home_ … isn’t complete shit at all.”

Dick contemplated a _Language_ but instead remarked: “Home, huh?”  
“I guess.”

Another sigh in the dark, and silhouette-Jason ran a hand through his hair.

“I needed some time alone first I guess.”

Dick answered in a non-committed hum and walked even closer, gripping the counter and leaning forward a bit.

“I… I, uh…” Jason seemed to search for words. Odd. Uncharacteristic. “I guess, I… I don’t know. I wasn’t feeling myself.”

Dick hummed again. “It happens.”

Jason was silent for a while.

“I am still fucking mad”, he told him, then.”

Dick shrugged. “That’s fair. I fucked up.”

“Also mad with Rose.”

“Don’t know if that’s fair. Not my thing.”

Was that a chuckle coming from the other? Maybe.

“So you’re back for… a night? Just passing through?”

“I don’t know yet.” A small sniff.

“What did you break?”

“Huh?”

“You broke something, didn’t you?”

“Oh. Yeah. Uh… that glass cereal thingy. I was hungry.”

And there was the defensive tone Dick knew from Jason. Good to know he was still the same.

“I’ll help you clean up.”

“No, it’s-“

“Before you cut yourself.” Dick used his _No Discussions_ tone, which was significantly harder to use when tired and with a head that slowly started feeling all spinny and fuzzy. Which was definitely not a good sign.

He expected the usual “I don’t take orders from you” response, but instead, Jason sighed and disappeared behind the counter. One of the small lights on the other side turned on.

Dick went around the counter and, in the flimmering blue-white shine of the light strip, helped Jason pick up the bigger glass shards from the floor. There were finer shards all over, and a crack on the floor.

“Sorry”, Jason mumbled.

“No worries…” Dick took a deep breath, stood up, wet a cloth and wiped up the tiny glass pieces from the floor until he couldn’t see any more fine sparkles in the light. At some point, Jason had gotten up, and returned with a dustpan to wipe up the now ruined cereal.

“Thanks.” Dick threw the cloth into the trash together with the cereal.

“I broke it. I fix it.”

For a second, Dick wondered if that was just meant to be about the cereal canister.

“There… there are leftovers in the fridge. Take those. Better than cereal anyways.”

Jason thanked him absently and got one of the covered plates from the refrigerator. Dick sighed and leaned over the counter for a second. His head was definitely spinning now… and the sight from his left eye got blurry…

“Woah!”

Jason – Dick turned his head around and saw – looked like he had seen a ghost.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Oh. Yeah. Right. He looked bad.

“Did… did they get you? In that fight tonight?”

“You know about that?”  
“Of course I know about that, answer my stupid question!”

Was that worry? Huh. Unexpected, after everything…

“Dick? Were you hit?”

“No.” Dick sighed. Rubbed his eyes. “’tis just a bug.”

“Oh.”

In the light of the open fridge and the light strip, the two of them stared at each other for a moment.

“Okay. Yeah.” Jason closed the fridge, put the plate away, and in two strides, he was by Dick’s side and had grabbed him, just in time, because Dick had started feeling dizzier by the minute.

“Bed. Now.”

“I’m fine, Jason. Stay here. Eat your-“

“Yeah, okay, that’s a no. Let’s go.”

Clearly, Jason wouldn’t accept a _No_. Better to accept the help, as he should…

“God, you’re a mess.”

Dick chuckled and sat down on the edge of his bed. “Thanks.”

“You’re a dumbass”, Jason told him. “Did you seriously fight like this?”

“No. It wasn’t… I had this back at the… when I was in prison.”

“In what?”

“Prison.”

Oh yeah. Right. Jason hadn’t been around anymore when Dick had gotten himself arrested and locked away.

“Why were you-“

“Deathstroke said he’d leave you all alone if I didn’t put the Titans together. So I made sure I wouldn’t be able to. Got myself locked up. Except that didn’t work, obviously.”

“You’re a dumbass.”

“Already said that.”

“Doesn’t hurt saying it twice. You’re feeling warm, Dick.”

“I know. Fever. If it’s the same thing I’ll start coughing sometime tomorrow.”

“Eww. Shit, man…”

“It’s okay.” Dick attempted a small laugh and failed hilariously. “At least here I have a bed and meds.”  
“They didn’t give you meds? Or a bed?”

“I got into trouble. Busted two guys out. They put me in solitary.”

“And the bed?”

“I, uh… I broke that.”

“ _What?_ ” Jason positively squawked the word out. Dick chuckled lowly.

“Yeah. I know. Pretty stupid. I threw it at Bruce.”

“You _definitely_ have a fever. You’re talking bullshit right now.”

“It wasn’t actually Bruce. I know that.” The words came out without Dick allowing them to. “Sometimes, I… I see him. When he’s not there. When my mind is too full.”

Slowly, Jason sat down on the bed next to him. “You… mean… a hallucination? Because that’s…”

“That’s a bad sign, I know.” Dick sighed. “You, you’re right, I’m a mess.”

He didn’t look up at Jason, but he could feel his gaze on himself.

“I… I fucked up so much, I… I almost ruined everything.”

Jason sighed, and then slowly put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “But you didn’t. Not completely.”

“Donna’s dead, Gar’s messed up, Rachel is… and Jericho, I… and…”

Great. Now there were tears burning in his eyes that he hadn’t invited there. Jason squeezed his shoulder again.

“That wasn’t… actually… your fault. You know that, right?”

“By consequence, it was.”

“By consequence, all of this would be Deathstroke’s fault. And Cadmus’.”

“I didn’t say anything about Cadmus.”  
“I may have been listening to you guys… and looked into the computer… and y’know. Putting the pieces together.”

“Smart.”

“I know. I didn’t become Robin because of my insane beauty. Though I _am_ very handsome.”

He didn’t sound as vain and self-assure like he usually had. Actually, he sounded a bit melancholic.

“Though I don’t know if I am anymore.”

“If you’re what anymore?”

“Robin?”

Dick huffed. “Yeah I know the feeling.”

“Yeah right. Nice new suit by the way.”  
“Thanks.”

His head started pounding and Dick rubbed one temple, biting down on his teeth.

“You should probably rest.”

“Never was good at that.”

“I heard.”

“From Bruce?”

“From Alfred, actually.”

“Of course.”

Jason chuckled. “You can, though. You’re allowed to rest. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t sound convincing.”

“Maybe because I don’t believe myself.”

“Makes sense.” Jason scooted closer, hesitantly placing his arm around Dick’s back and shoulders. “But you are. Allowed.”

“Nice to know you care so much.”

Jason clicked his tongue. “Don’t tell anyone. My reputation’s gonna be ruined.”

He didn’t sound like he actually meant it.

“I’ll be dead-silent about it.”

“Good.” Jason started rubbing small circles against Dick’s spine with his hand. “I’m shit at this...”

“What? Interaction that doesn’t involve curses and sarcasm?”

“I meant, like… taking care of someone. But yeah, that too.” Jason sighed. “I get it though. I’m a mess too.”

“Good to know.”

“You knew already. Told ya. On the roof.”

Dick just hummed as an answer. The headache got worse. Somehow, Jason seemed to notice.

“Lay down”, he said, surprisingly soft. “Rest.”

Dick wanted to, but he didn’t. “What happened? With Rose and you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Dick thought about answering but decided against it. Jason probably knew best.

“Did you… d’you know about Jericho?”

“What do you mean?”

Dick told him.

“Oh. Wow. That’s… a lot.”

“That’s one way to say it.”

His eyes were stinging again. For the third time in not even twenty-four hours. Dammit. _A lot_ was the exact right way to describe all that had happened recently.

Conner. Rose. Prison. Slade. Jericho. Donna. Rachel. The new armour, new persona.

Dick’s throat tightened.

Losing everything and everyone. Going to prison. Realizing Jericho was alive. Breaking out. Fighting Slade.

There was a thundering sound in his ears. His sight grew blurry.

“Hey! Dick! Breathe, man!”

Suddenly, he could feel the hand on his back again, and managed a deep breath. And another one.

“Fuck, you really aren’t okay!”

Jason definitely sounded worried now. Dick didn’t know whether to laugh about how uncharacteristically caring Jason was being, or to sob at the truth of his words, so out came a strangled mix of the two.

“Fuck.” Jason, without hesitation, moved closer, wrapping his arms around Dick and letting the older grab on as if for dear life. Which he did.

Dick was, had always been, dependant on touch, much more than Bruce for sure, but lately, he hadn’t really acted upon that… need. There had been other things, more important things – and he hadn’t realized how much he actually had needed it. Thankfully, Jason seemed to realize it, and didn’t pull away until Dick did.

“You really…”

“…are a mess. I know.”

“Good.” Jason pursed his lips, squeezed his shoulder again. “You… get some rest. Yeah.”

“Suddenly so awkward?”

“Watch it, Dick.”

Dick chuckled, and finally followed the advice, crawling under his blankets to get some more sleep. To his surprise, Jason didn’t leave. He pushed off his boots and shoved Dick against the shoulder.

“Scoot.”

Dick made room for the younger one, chuckling to himself.

“If you tell anyone I will actually kill you.”

“Sure.” Dick rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.

“I mean it!”

“Shut up Jason.”


End file.
